


Making a Masterpiece

by paranoid_delusional_valkyrie



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Explicit Language, F/M, Gallery Showing, Sexual Content, Sexual Fantasy, art critic, art kink, artist Tom Hiddleston
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 08:41:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3563315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paranoid_delusional_valkyrie/pseuds/paranoid_delusional_valkyrie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The OC is at a gallery showing for a well-known, albeit, mysterious artist. The OC is not too excited about being there for a number of reasons and is pleasantly surprised when she meets someone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making a Masterpiece

**Author's Note:**

> Think Tom from the War Horse premiere.

I couldn’t help but sigh as I made my way to the gallery showing. As much as I wanted to see the latest pieces in Tom Hiddleston’s collection I didn’t want to deal with all those pretentious assholes who had no interest in art whatsoever and were there just to show off the size of their checkbooks or act like they knew something about art to look cultured. This was the one part of my job that I despised. It seemed like every gallery showing had two kinds of people in the majority: rich people who didn’t give a rat’s ass about art and pretentious douche bags.

As I approached the entrance, I became more and more hesitant about going inside due to the large number of people. It wasn’t that I didn’t like social gatherings, it was the large mass that would make it harder for me to see the paintings. Now I know that my list of complaints may sound ridiculous, but when you have developed an obsession with art to the point where the thought of a Vermeer moistens you up, and you are surrounded by d-bags who keep saying they liked this picture and that sculpture before it was cool and rich people who want to show off their wealth and pretty much cock block you, then the sexual frustration really comes out. 

And yes, I did say that a Vermeer could make me wet. Seriously though, have you seen his works? They would make a nun want to sin and don’t even get me started on John Singer Sargent…Yeah, I have a certain predilection towards art in that I get turned on by it. I can’t explain it, but there’s just something about looking at certain pieces of art that just gets my blood pumping and my clit quaking and the art I like isn’t even that erotic. The large majority of the time it’s relatively innocent. That’s not to say that all art turns me on. Art Deco does nothing for me compared to Venetian Renaissance Art… _Uhhh hang on a sec, I need to get my perverted mind under control…Sorry about that, my mind tends to wander during unpleasant events._

Anyway, I finally entered the gallery and low and behold, rich and pretentious people as far as the eye could see. But then I started looking at Tom Hiddleston’s art and in that moment I was a lost cause to Art and so was my increasingly throbbing pussy. I immersed myself in the crowd and wandered.

Well Tom Hiddleston had certainly hit a home run again. His paintings varied in form and subject matter from non-objective pieces, to domestic scenes of little girls playing with a tabby cat (a personal favorite) to water color still lifes. This man clearly had a gift. Plus, the mystery behind this man was also rather fascinating.

Showings for Tom Hiddleston’s art were always sure to be a spectacle mostly due to the immense talent that the man possessed and his popularity, but the other big factor in all of this was his anonymity. Practically no one knew who the man was or what he even looked like.  He was probably one of the most popular artists of our generation. He would surely be talked and written about in art history books in the coming decades and centuries, yet no one really knew about him. Or rather the list of people who did know of him was relatively small, at least to the art community. Tom Hiddleston was a mystery in the art world which was surprising, but also not totally unexpected. It was surprising because everyone knew everyone or knew someone who knew someone else. Very six degrees of separation around here. His anonymity was not unexpected because of it’s usefulness as a marketing tool. The air of mystery surrounding this brilliant artist could easily draw in potential clients and the get the media’s attention and you could bet that the media would romanticize the hell out of it. It was a smart business move and Tom Hiddleston was utilizing it perfectly, even if it was unintentional. 

While I was admiring another domestic scene, a girl braiding a younger girl’s hair, I spotted something out of the corner of my eye. I tried to ignore it, but its sudden movement once again distracted me and I looked over. And just like that, my night had gotten a whole lot better because there stood a gloriously tall man in a beautifully fitted three-piece navy blue suit, complete with medium length, dark curly hair, aesthetically pleasing facial hair, and blue eyes that I wouldn’t mind getting lost in for a long while. He was looking right at me and when our eyes met, he smiled and winked at me. I froze for what felt like an eternity, but was probably more like five seconds and returned the smile and nodded. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting to run into a gloriously hot man who didn’t seem to be hellbent on buying art or showing off his knowledge. Well, frankly, he seemed pretty content with admiring my figure— _Hey! What the hell?!?_ In the blink of an eye he was gone and I was left feeling dazed by this mysterious, sexy man. Trying to snap out of it, I moved on to other sections of the gallery.

Twenty minutes later, I found myself standing in front of a set of four fairly large rectangular, representational pieces of the four seasons. The colors for spring and summer were surprisingly subtle while fall and winter were shockingly bright even with the minimal color palette. He wasn’t the first person to try this, but damn if he didn’t make this his own. It was like he had selected his prize and thrown her on the bed and fucked her till all she could remember was his name which he would then leave somewhere on her body, only with her complete consent for the whole thing of course. God just thinking of that is made me feel dizzy with lust. _See this is what art does to me. It turns me into a horny, art-obsessed harlot._  

As I was fanning myself in a bid to cool down a little, I felt another presence in the room. I turned around only to come face-to-face once again with the mysterious, sexy man. Again, I froze and just stood there watching him as he seemed to assess me, running his eyes up and down my figure until he finally got to my face. When he saw my flushed cheeks he smirked as if he knew exactly how turned on I was in that moment. I wanted to say something in my own defense, but just as I was about to speak, a group entered the room and the sexy man quickly turned and left. What the fuck was this guy’s problem? Why the fuck didn’t he come over and talk to me?!? _Does he think he’s better than me just because he is not some sort of horny disciple who is at the mercy of beautiful art?_ _Cheeky dick waffle._

I’ll admit I was also slightly embarrassed that he had caught me in such a state. I mean I’m not ashamed of the effect certain pieces of art can have on me, but I don’t want to share my experience with everyone. Can you imagine how that would go down? _"Umm excuse me, ma’am. Do you think you and your child could move about two feet away from me? I’m about to have a glorious orgasm any moment now after looking at this beautiful Bernini sculpture and I don’t want to mentally scar your child while I try to stifle my orgasm as I ponder just how the fuck Bernini was able to sculpt marble in such a way that it looks like human flesh is actually being squeezed. Thank you very much!"_ Yeah, not awkward at all.

I’m thinking about calling it quits for the night when I come across the one piece that just sets my libido on fire and has my panties soaking. It’s a painting of the night sky filled with an endless array of stars. _Sweet Christ, just look at the rich, saturated colors._ How is he able to use so many different colors and blend them so subtlety to the point where you even wonder if they’re really there or if your eyes are playing tricks on you? And then there are the stars. If you look closely, they appear to be white dots of paint, but take about four steps back and you will see twinkling stars in a sea of swirling colors that make up the night sky. _God, how does he do that?_ I pondered as I tried to calm my beating heart. It was then that I felt some of my arousal trickling down my leg. I squeezed my legs together in a pathetic attempt to quell my lust. If I didn’t get out of here soon I may jump the next man who approached me. 

"If I had to guess I’d say you’re a lover of the arts." Came a deep, smooth voice laced with what sounded like amusement. I turned to look and sure enough Mysterious, Sexy Man was standing next to me once again smirking, most likely at my expense. I took a deep, cleansing breath. 

"You could say that." I said as I focused on the painting again. I swear I could hear him smiling.

"It’s refreshing to run into someone who clearly has a passion for art when one is surrounded by the uninterested and pretentious." I couldn’t help but smile at that.

"I know the feeling."

We were silent for a moment as we both regarded the painting. “So what do you think?” He asked.

"Honestly? I want to punch that bastard in the face." I stated longingly.

"Really? Why is that?" He returned calmly. 

"Are you kidding me?!? Look at the way he took those thick, saturated colors and made them his bitch. He uses so many different colors and utilizes them like a skilled master that you can’t detect them unless you study the painting closely. And how the hell did he make the stars look like white specks up close, yet when you take a few steps back and take the whole thing in, the damn stars twinkle! Really, how does he do that?!? How is he able to elicit such emotions from the viewer just from his skillful use of a damned paintbrush?!?" I take another calming breath before I turn back to Mystery Man. He is smiling down at me.

"I can honestly say that I’ve never seen anyone react to the art the way you do."

"Then you clearly haven’t been hanging out with that many art dealers. We’re all stark raving mad about art." And the smirk was back.

"That explains a lot, you being an art dealer." 

"It is not my fault that art is awesome on so many different levels and I wish to spread the love of art. Granted, I am paid nicely for it, not to blow my own horn here, but I’m just sayin’ art is my passion."

He regarded me, looking like he was trying to make a decision about something before he checked the time on his watch. “The show ends in about thirty minutes. After that I am free for the rest of the night and hopefully you will be too. I would love nothing more than to have a drink with you and spend more time having deep conversations about art…amongst other things, Miss…?”

"Oh, right, Eve Harding." 

"Eve," he said as he lifted my hand and kissed it. "It was a pleasure meeting you. I hope to see you in the very near future." And with a parting wink he disappeared into the crowd once more. It wasn’t until I came out of my stupor that I realized that he had slipped something into my hand. It appeared to be a business card. As I looked down to see what it said my heart started thumping like mad as I read over it. At the top of the card was the name of the mystery man.

**Tom Hiddleston**

**Artist/Instructor**

**_1233 Trotzdem Square (11 o’clock sharp)_ **

_Oh fuck, my body was not ready for this shit._


End file.
